Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist
by mistymidnight
Summary: Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?
1. Just Another Day

Title: Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

Author: mistymidnight

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

Summary: Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

Author's Notes: If you haven't read "Fully Qualified", stop. Click on over to my user profile and find it. Read it. Then come back. Okay.

A quick refresher: Willow lives in Toronto. She's a psychologist specializing in "strange" cases. A woman named Carly Hill brings her six-year-old daughter, Taylor, to WIllow, worried her daughter is some kind of schizophrenic. The little girl switches personalities at the drop of a hat. Willow finally discovers the problem--and it hits a lot closer to home than she expected.

The Basics: Willow's secretary is named Erin. Her replacement (in case of sickness, etc.) is a klutzy college student named Aimee. Willow's cat is a little kitten named Maxwell. Willow lives in an upscale apartment overlooking the SkyDome (the Toronto Blue Jays' playing field) and still keeps in touch with all the Scoobies. She and Kennedy are no longer dating, but they remain close friends. Willow's patients, besides Taylor, include an angry thirteen-year-old girl named Thayer; Zane, an eight-year-old son of two Watchers, that makes up elaborate conspiracy theories about Slayers and Watchers; Lola, a four-year-old that masks her unhappiness by completely shutting down her feelings to herself and acting overly-happy towards everyone; and Sophie, a ten-year-old girl who has not spoken a word since her parents' murders two years before.

Tidbit: The title of this story is the name of the original gidgetgirl challnge that started it all. (Didn't that sound dramatic...). You can read the original challenge at Chocolate Covered Strawberries.

Okey doke. I actually started this chapter a week ago, but we kept having power surges on my side of town and I was stupid and didn't save what I had before the power went out. Boo, me.

Just Another Day

Willow regarded the packages on her desk with skepticism. _Why? _she thought to herself. _Why didn't I just get a salad, like normal?_

But Willow Rosenberg had ordered Chinese takeout, and that was that.

She'd been trying to shake things up ever since the incident with Taylor. She'd even said it herself: "Change is not bad." But looking at the cartons of noodles and chicken laid out before her, WIllow found herself missing her usual salad, Italian bread and all.

"Okay," she muttered quietly. "I can do this. I will eat my lunch." She slid the chopsticks out of their plastic sleeve and positioned them carefully between her fingers. She opened a carton of noodles with her other hand and dumped them onto a plate. "Here goes nothing," she remarked, before taking careful aim with the chopsticks. One landed sucessfully in the heap of noodles, but the other missed its mark and clatter to the desktop. Willow sighed. "Okay," she mumbled. "Time for Plan B."

"Willow?" Erin called, opening the door to Willow's office. "Mrs. Alden just called. Thayer's getting out of the hospital tomorrow and she was wondering if you could visit Thay--" Erin stopped short. "Now that," she remarked, "is a sight I never thought I'd see."

Willow's head was tilted back, and she was dangling a handful of noodles high above her mouth. As Erin watched, Willow dropped the noodles. Most landed in her mouth, though some missed and instead plastered themselves to her nose and chin. She shoved them in before grabbing a napkin and wiping her face.

"I was hungry," Willow offered.

"I think Hell just froze over," Erin remarked dryly. "And, oh, look! Pigs can fly."

"Not in that rain, they can't," Willow replied, glancing at the late November rain that was pouring in sheets outside.

Erin nodded her agreement. "That's gonna be killer to drive home in," she remarked. "Why can't it just snow? At least snow is pretty."

"And," Willow added, "the office is closed when it snows. It wouldn't have anything to do with that, would it?"

"Hey, look, I'm not going to complain about your California Girl ways. If you can't take a centimeter of snow and you cancel work because of it, it's one big long day of me being paid for doing nothing. I don't see any negative side to that."

Willow smiled. "I've yet to cancel work because of rain."

"That's what sucks about working on the fifth floor of a building," Erin teased. "Slim chances of flooding."

"Tell you what," Willow teased back. "If it ever rains enough to flood up to this floor--knock on wood--I'll give you a year off and put in a call for a guy named Noah. Not the one Carly's dating," she added hastily.

"'Dating'--loose term in Carly's case," Erin remarked lightly. "They've been out, what, twice?"

"She likes him," Willow said easily. "Oh!" She reached into the bag from the takeout restaurant. "Fortune cookie," she said, tossing it to Erin, who caught it, removed it from its plastic wrapper, and broke it open, expertly extracting the fortune from inside. She read the paper silently, snorted, and then read to Willow, "'The sun shines upon you today.'" She glanced out the window again at the downpour. "I think my fortune is a little late. Or early." She paused. "Or completely wrong."

Willow, in the meantime, had been going about finding her own fortune. "'Fate helps those who help themselves,'" she read.

Erin turned her fortune over. "My lucky numbers are 25, 31, and 17." She twisted up her face in thought. "I think that was my high school locker combination."

Willow examined her fortune. "9, 54, 28." She grinned. "I'm playing these in the lottery."

"Yeah, right," Erin said. "Like you need extra money."

"It's in memory of Anya."

"The late, great, red-blooded capitalist?"

"She'd be proud."

There was a knock on the door. "Uh, hello?"

Willow and Erin turned to see who it was. There were no appointments scheduled for that afternoon.

"Oh, hi, Aimee."

Aimee stood in the doorway, drenched. "My car stalled down the street," she said miserably. "And my cell phone isn't working. I think it's 'cause of the rain."

Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, not because of the rain itself," Aimee explained. "I just think we're gonna get one of those late-fall thunderstorms. My phone never works when it's thundering and lightning."

"Lovely," Willow remarked. "Nothing like electricity combined with rain."

Aimee's head bobbed in agreement, and Erin crossed over to her.

"Why don't you use the office phone?" she suggested, changing her course toward the waiting room. "And we'll go to the bathroom down the hall. We can try drying your shirt under the hand dryer or something."

"Thanks," Aimee sniffled. She pulled a soggy tissue from her sweater pocket. "And this stupid cold on top of it all," she groaned. Willow grabbed a box of tissues from her desk drawer and reached across the desk to hand it to Aimee, who took it gratefully. "Thanks," she said, taking a tissue and handing the box back.

"No problem," Willow replied, replacing the box in the drawer.

Erin stuck her head back in through the door. "Guests!" she announced, stepping aside to reveal Lola and her mother.

Aimee managed a weak smile. "It's a regular reunion."  
Lola raced up to Willow. "Hi, Mom--I mean, Dr. Rosenberg!"

"Hi, Lola," Willow said, smiling at the little girl. She was pleased at the progress Lola was making. She no longer greeted every woman she met as "Mommy". Willow suspected this had something to do with the marriage counseling Lola's parents were apparently getting. _Lola's a good girl,_ Willow thought. _She's just having a hard time._

Lola contented herslf by playing with the chopsticks on Willow's desk while Lola's mother talked to Willow.

"I was in the neighborhood," she remarked, "and I just thought I'd stop in and make an appointment."

"Sure, no problem," Willow said, slightly puzzled that Lola's mother hadn't just made an appointment with Erin.

"Lola," Lola's mother called, "put those back. They aren't yours."

Lola guiltily fished a pair of chopsticks from her coat pocket and set them back on the desk.

"I think there may be a slight problem with Lola," Lola's mother said quietly.

"I see," Willow said.

_Maybe Lola's not making so much progress after all._

Kind of a depressing note to end on, no?

Sorry if this chapter doesn't read very well. It was written over the course of three days, through various levels of hunger, exhaustion, and boredom. And it took TWO DAYS to upload...the site was running really slowly, so I kind of gave up and came back to finish uploading the next day.

mistymidnight


	2. Telephone

**Title: **Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

**Summary: **Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

**Author's Notes: **Here I am, finally back to update.I'm writing to console myself over the slump I'm in. It's the classic Post-Performance Slump. You know, you get all excited and you really love the people you're working with and then it's all over. Okay. Enough complaining.

When we last left our heroine, she has discovered that her patient, Lola, was not making such good progress after all. What will happen next? Dun-dun-dun!

**Ooh! Ooh! IMPORTANT!!! Please vote for me for Readers' Choice at The Bedtime Story Awards! Interrogation is up for votes, and any suport would be greatly appreciated. Or, if you absolutely hate me, go vote for someone else. There's some really great writers nominated...gidgetgirl, for one. **

**The URL is (minus the spaces, obviously) http : members . shaw . ca / btsawards **

(Sorry about the spaces in between. It's just that ff . net refuses to let me put URLs in the context of my story. Darn html editor.)

On with the chapter!

**Telephone**

"Well, I sure don't envy you," Buffy Summers remarked. "I don't have the kind of patience to deal with...well...patients."

"To each his own," Willow replied, the cordless phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear. She glanced outside at the rain pouring down the glass slider doors. She could barely make out the SkyDome a block or so away. It was a wonder she was able to see it at all. She figured it was only visible because of the lights the surrounding buildings were giving off. Baseball season was over, and Willow, who had never thought herself a baseball fan, or a fan of any sport for that matter, found herself missing the summer games.

"So, Will," Buffy began, cutting into her wistful memories of summer nights, sitting on the balcony and eating ice cream, "how goes it in Toronto? Apart from work."

"It's pretty quiet," Willow told her. "Ever since that thing with Taylor."

"I can't help getting the sense that there's more to we realize," Buffy said. "I mean, the girl was, like, channeling the different sides of your personality or something. She'd never met you, Will. She had no connection to you. So how did she get to you?"

"You're babbling."

"I know."

Willow smiled, even though she knew Buffy couldn't see her. "That's _my_ job."

"Awfully possessive of our babblings, aren't we?"

Willow smiled again. The telephone beeped. Willow glanced at the caller ID on the end table the phone charger sat on. "Hey, Buffy, can I call you back? Carly's on the other line."

"Taylor's mom?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. But you'd better remember to call me."

"I will."

"Don't forget."

"I won't. Goodbye, Buffy."

"Bye, Will."

Willow switched to the other line. "Hello?"

There was a crackling on the line, then she heard Carly's voice say, "Willow?"

"The one and only."

"Oh, hi." Carly's voice sounded garbled. _She must be on her cell phone. _Willow glanced out the window again at the sheets of rain. _The poor woman._ "I'm glad I got ahold of you," Carly continued. "I need to ask you a huge favor."

"Go ahead."

"Would you mind watching Taylor Wednesday night? I've got a date with Noah and the babysitter cancelled. Normally, I'd just cancel the date, but we're going to see a show and Noah tried for weeks to get tickets and this guy at his work finally sold them to him for twice their value and it's non-refundable and--"

"Carly, relax. Deep breaths," Willow teased. "I'll take care of Taylor. Don't worry."

Carly held the cell phone closer to her ear. "So, I'll see you Wednesday, right after I pick Taylor up. And thanks so much."

"No problem. Always a pleasure to babysit."

Carly frowned at the road as she switched into a lane with less traffic. "I feel like such a bad mother," she confessed. "I've been working late all the time. I barely see my little girl any more."

"You're not a bad mom," Willow assured her. "You're just busy, that's all. I'm sure Taylor understands."

"I don't know," Carly said. "She's usually so bubbly and eager to tell me about everything. Lately, she's just been withdrawn and kind of touchy."

"Is it because of—"

"Noah?"

"Kids don't always like having to share their parents with someone else."

"It's only been a few dates. I don't even know if it's serious yet."

"Neither does she. But I'll bet it's what she's afraid of."

"Probably." Carly turned on her blinker and drove onto the exit ramp. "Well, maybe some time with you will cheer her up."

Willow smiled. "Here's hoping."

_(Pretend there's a page divider here...)_

She could see them again. They were here. And they were mad. And the hands, the hands were coming, coming, coming, and they were grabbing her neck and squeezing hard. Tears streamed down her face and lights flashed in front of her eyes. The hands hit her. She fell and it hurt it hurt it hurt…

The bruises would never fade…

…if they were real.

_(Pretend there's a page divider here...)_

Okey dokey, chapter posty!

mistymidnight


	3. Babysitting

**Title: **Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

**Summary: **Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

**Author's Notes: **Gasp! An update from me? What are the odds?!

I've been, as per usual, busy. But people (read: gidgetgirl) have been kind enough to let me know they're still interested in the story, so I got inspired, and you all get an update. See the goodness there? It's a karma thing.

**Babysitting**

Willow stood outside the Hills' apartment building, pulling her coat more tightly around her body. The rain had turned to sleet, which, Willow suspected, would soon become snow. The weatherman shared her suspicions, so Willow had worn her boots and made sure her ice scraper thingamabob was stashed in the backseat of her car. However, all the ice scrapers in the world wouldn't help her if Carly never answered the buzzer...

Suddenly there was a crackling on the loudspeaker. "Hello?" Carly's voice said.

"It's me," Willow answered, her breath coming out in a big cloud in front of her.

"Oh, hey," Carly said. "Come on up." The door buzzer went off and Willow let herself in.

When she reached the apartment, she had to wait another two minutes before Carly opened the door for her. When she finally did, she was putting in an earring, watching a pot of macaroni and cheese out of the corner of her eye, and telling Taylor, "I told you, sweetheart, I'm not going to take you home food from the restaurant. I'm making you dinner right now." She nodded a "come in" to Willow and shut the door behind her. Taylor sat sulking in a corner, the TV behind her yelling something about tax rebates.

"Hey, Taylor," Willow said.

"Hi, Dr. Rosenberg," Taylor said pointedly, glancing at her mother out of the corner of her eye. "Guess what."

"What?"

"I'm mad at my mom and I'm not talking to her anymore."

"Why's that?"

Taylor glared at her mother. "Because."

"Taylor, this is nonsense," Carly said. "If you're a good girl I'll bring you back a special treat, okay?"

Taylor seemed to perk up momentarily, but tried her hardest not to show it. "Okay."

"Good," Carly smiled, before turning to Willow and rattling off, "Her-bedtime-is-at-nine-and-I've-made-her-macaroni-you-just-have-to-put-the-milk-and-cheese-and-stuff-in-and-I-should-be-home-by-midnight-unless-the-driving's-bad-which-God-knows-it-probably-will-be-knowing-this-weather-and-I-laid-out-her-pajamas-on-the-bed-and-if-she-has-one-of-her-nightmares-she-can-watch-some-TV-or-something-with-you-and-if-she-wants-a-snack-she-can-have-some-veggies-and--"

"What a second," Willow said. "One, slow down. Breathe. Two, back up. What did you just say?"  
Carly smoothed her hair down. "If she wants a snack, she can eat the veggies that--"

"No, no, before that. Did you say she's been having nightmares?"

Carly nodded. "Yeah. I figured it was just a phase. Why? Is this bad?"

Willow shook her head. "Not really. I've just had some bad experiences with nightmares--"

Carly gave her an incredulous look. "Pretty much everybody's nightmares are bad. I'd be hard pressed to think of a _good_ experience I had with nightmares."

"I know," Willow replied. "It's just that once, there was this dream, and the First Slayer that tried to kill me and my friends, and a guy with cheese and...it was not of the good."

"Oh," Carly said, clearly confused. "Well."

"So I have this..._thing_...about nightmares."

"Well, I doubt these are as dire as Cheese-Guy nightmares."

Willow smiled a little. "Here's hoping."

The buzzer rang and Carly jumped for the speaker. "That's him!" she sqealed, before pressing the button and saying calmly, "I'll be right down." As soon as the intercom was off, she turned to Willow. "Am I okay? How's my hair? How's my breath? Did I tell you everything? Where's my purse?"

Willow grinned. "Yes, fine, fine, yes, and right here." She handed Carly the pocketbook. "Have fun."

"Okay. I will." Carly walked over to Taylor and gave her a hug. "Be good for Dr. Rosenberg. I'll come in and give you a kiss goodnight when I come home."

"Okay," Taylor replied, still sulking.

With one last wave goodbye, Carly headed out the door.

And the babysitting job began.

* * *

Forgive any spelling mistakes...I'm tired and working without a spellchecker.

mistymidnight


	4. Bad Dream

**Title: **Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

**Summary: **Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

**Author's Notes: **My apologies about the lack of updates. There's really no excuse this time…I just got lazy. Bad me.

**Bad Dream**

"My mom thought this would never work out. She was all, 'Once a cheater, always a cheater'."

Willow popped a carrot stick in her mouth and watched the television intently. It was nearly eleven-thirty, Taylor was in bed, and _Friends_ was on TV. She was off the hook until Carly came home, which—if the weather didn't slow her down too much—would be in about a half-hour.

"But the way you owned up to everything," the television (or Rachel on _Friends_, depending on your point of view) continued, "just showed me how much you've grown, you know?"

"Mmhmm," Ross replied.

"Oh, I just wish we hadn't lost those three months," Rachel went on. "But if time was what you needed to gain a little perspective…"

"Willow?"

Willow turned around. Taylor was standing next to the sofa, holding a stuffed rabbit in her hands.

"What's wrong, Taylor?"

"WE WERE ON A BREAK!" the television yelled.

"I don't feel good," Taylor replied, casting a wary eye toward the television. "Is that _Friends_?"

"Um, yes," Willow said, not quite sure which question to answer first.

"We have it on DVD," Taylor informed her. "No commercials."

"Oh," Willow responded, somewhat perplexed at the turn the conversation had taken.

"They're Mommy's DVDs," Taylor went on, "but I don't think she'd mind if you watched them. She's had them since forever, and she never watches them anymore. She's never home."

"That's not true," Willow said, before steering the discussion back to the topic at hand. "You don't feel good, sweetie?"

"No," Taylor responded. "My tummy hurts."

"Are you hungry? Do you want some carrots?"

"No."

"You don't want carrots or you're just not hungry?"

"Both."

"How about we get you some medicine, then?"

"No!"

Willow turned around at the amount of force Taylor had spoken with. "You don't like medicine, Taylor?"

Taylor rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "No, no, no, no, no. No!"

"What's the matter? Taylor? Taylor!"

All Willow could do was catch Taylor as she collapsed.

* * *

_She was watching as the woman walked down the long, empty hallway. It was quiet, and gray, and scary. Suddenly the hand grabbed the woman's shoulders. She was spun around into the wall, her head making a sickening sound, somewhere between a crack and a thud. _

_"Stop!" the woman screamed. "Stop it, please! I'll give you her! She's the one you want!"_

_And then everything was black._

* * *

"Taylor? Taylor, wake up."

Willow gently shook Taylor's tense body. As she shook, Taylor's eyes flickered open and she asked, "Where's Mommy?"

"She's not home yet, sweetie."

"I need her. I had a bad dream."

"Your mom said you'd been having a lot of those lately."

Taylor nodded.

"Taylor," Willow began, "what do you dream about?"

"Hands," Taylor said. "The hands hurt people."

"Just the hands?"

"Yes."

"What do they do?"

"They…they choke me. They banged a lady's head into a wall." She whimpered and whispered, "I'm scared."

"Okay, Taylor," Willow said, helping Taylor to sit up. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna draw some pictures, okay?"

"Okay," Taylor sniffed.

"Now, where do you keep the paper and crayons?"

Taylor pointed to a box sitting on a shelf in the kitchen. Willow retrieved it and set it on the coffee table.

"Okay, Taylor, this will help make your bad dream go away." She handed Taylor a piece of paper and a crayon. "Draw what you saw in the dream."

Taylor took the crayon and paper and carefully drew a woman in a hallway.

"Where are the hands?" Willow asked.

Taylor shrugged. "I never see the hands, really," she offered. "But I know they're there. When do I feel better?"

"Right now," Willow said. "Now, draw something funny in the dream."

"Like what?"

"Like, um, bubbles, coming right out of that lady's ears."

Taylor smiled a little bit and drew some circles hovering around the woman's head. "What else?"

"It's your turn. You think of something."

Taylor thought for a moment, then said, "A Jell-O mold."

"Sure," Willow said. _Whatever flips your switch._

Taylor's small smile broke into a grin and she began to draw what Willow assumed to be a Jell-O mold, following it with what Taylor said was an elephant wearing Bermuda shorts, a tap-dancing table lamp, and a football coach wearing a ballet costume.

Neither one of them noticed the time (1:52), or the fact that Carly still wasn't home.

* * *

Finally, a new chapter! It's been long enough, huh?

Quick disclaimer: I don't own _Friends_. (Kinda wish I did, though.)

mistymidnight


	5. Hospital Trip

**Title: **Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

**Summary: **Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

**Author's Notes: **Hello, hello, I'm back again.

Please please pretty please review this chapter! I only got 2 reviews last time (much thanks to Faeries Twilight and Freezyboncoolipants, by the way), and that's just not good for my self-esteem. Every time I open up my inbox and see that there are new reviews, I get a little thrill. Yes, I am pathetic; you'll just have to deal with it, 'cause I'm the author here, mmkay?

**Hospital Trip**

After Taylor had been calmed and put back to bed, Willow cleaned up the crayons and fell asleep on the couch. When she woke up, there was snow steadily falling outside the window. _What time is it?_ She wondered. She glanced at the digital clock on the TV's cable box. 8:58!

"Carly?" she called, immediately worried. It wasn't like Carly not to call if there had been a change in plans.

_Maybe she forgot,_ Willow thought, trying to stay calm. _Maybe she spent the night with Noah and she just…forgot. For nine hours. About me. And her only daughter whom she values above everything else._

"Carly!" she called again, louder and more panicked. There was no answer.

She ran in to check on Taylor, who was sleeping soundly, a stuffed cat clutched to her chest. Assured that Taylor was okay, Willow turned to her next order of business: finding out of Carly was okay, too.

She located the list of emergency numbers posted on the fridge and picked up the phone, trying Carly's cell phone first—no answer.

She tried calling Noah—she got his voicemail. After leaving a brief message asking about Carly's whereabouts, she hung up.

She called Carly's work number, her neighbors, and anyone listed as an emergency contact. No one knew where Carly was.

After her tenth phone call, Willow put down the emergency contact sheet and opened the phone book. It was time to start calling hospitals.

By the time Taylor woke up, Willow had located Carly at Saint Michael's hospital, packed a bag of things to bring her, made Pop-Tarts for breakfast, and laid out all Taylor's winter outerwear: boots, hat, gloves, jacket, scarf.

Taylor plodded in, holding the stuffed cat still. "Willow?" she asked. "Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy isn't home, sweetie," Willow explained, trying to figure out how to give Taylor the news in the least upsetting way possible. "Mommy's at the hospital, but she's going to be okay."

Taylor's lip quivered and she asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know, sweetie," Willow confessed. "But we're gonna go see her, okay? So why don't you eat this Pop-Tart and I'll go lay out some clothes for you."

Taylor nodded slowly and hugged her stuffed cat. Willow knelt down and wrapped both Taylor and the stuffed animal in a hug. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said soothingly. "We're gonna go see your mom. It'll be okay."

_Am I trying to reassure her, _Willow wondered,_ or am I trying to reassure myself?_

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and went to pick out an outfit for Taylor.

* * *

It was 9:41 when Willow and Taylor reached the hospital. Traffic had been slow because of the ever-falling snow, and every minute stuck in traffic seemed like an hour.

Willow and Taylor pushed through the revolving doors into the hospital lobby, and Willow practically charged the receptionist's desk. "Carly Hill," she gasped to the receptionist, out of breath from worry and the zillion layers of winter wear she had on.

"Are you family?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes," Willow lied. "I am her…sister. In law. Willow Hill."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow and looked at Taylor. "Your daughter?"

"Carly's," Willow explained. "May we see her, please?"

The receptionist glanced at her computer screen and said, "Room 412. The elevator's over there." She gestured in the general direction of the elevator and then went back to scribbling something on a clipboard. Willow and Taylor set off for the elevator.

By the time the elevator had reached the fourth floor, Taylor had left a bruise on Willow's hand from squeezing it so tightly. They began walking down the hallway, past room 402, 404, 406, 408… With every door they passed, Willow felt more and more sick to her stomach. _Is she okay? What happened? Will she recover? What will happen to Taylor? Should I call Carly's work and let them know she's here? Should I call Taylor's preschool and tell them she won't be in? Or is it a snow day? What should I tell Taylor? What if we walk in and she sees her mother on death's door or something?_

She looked up at the numbers on the door in front of her: 412. They were there.

"Wait right here, sweetie," Willow said, maneuvering her hand out of Taylor's grip, which was surprisingly strong for such a little girl. "Just for a second. I'm gonna tell your Mom that you're coming."

Taylor looked doubtful.

"Don't worry, Taylor, it'll be like you're royalty or a famous person. I'll go in and say, 'Presenting Miss Taylor Hill!' Okay?"

Taylor sniffed and nodded, and Willow smiled before opening the door and stepping into Carly's hospital room.

There were machines beeping, and most of them were hooked up to Carly, who sat under the covers, propped up by a pillow. Her eyes were closed, but when she heard Willow enter the room, she opened them and looked over.

"Hey," she whispered. "Sorry I didn't call."

Willow smiled a little bit. "Least of my worries right now," she replied, before adding, "Taylor wants to see you."

"Have her come in," Carly said. "I want to see my baby."

Willow walked over to the door and stuck her head into the hallway. "Taylor? You can come in now." Taylor nodded and followed Willow into the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Carly said. "Come give your Mommy a hug."

Taylor walked over to her mother and gingerly hugged her, trying not to disturb the tubes attached to Carly's face and arm.

"Mommy, what happened?" Taylor asked.

"Mommy had an accident," Carly explained. "Now, sweetie, I really, really want to talk to you, but right now I need to talk to Willow." She caught the attention of the nurse entering the room and asked, "Will you watch her for a minute?"

"Of course," the nurse nodded, gently taking Taylor by the hand. "Come on, sweetie," she said, leading Taylor out of the room. "I'll get you a coloring book. Would you like that?"

As soon as Taylor and the nurse were out of earshot, Willow asked, "What happened?"

Carly sighed. "I don't know for sure," she said. "Uh, Noah dropped me off about a block away from the apartment. We couldn't get onto the street actually in front of the apartment because there was a car accident or something and the road was blocked off. He would've walked me home," Carly went on, anticipating Willow's next question, "but he'd just been beeped. His sister was in the hospital, having a baby, and I insisted that he go see her. He's her only family in this area, and the baby's father is out of the picture." She snorted. "Sort of like another deadbeat dad I know of. Anyway, I told him I'd just walk the extra block home and I'd be fine. I mean, I've walked down that block a million times, right? Nothing bad was gonna happen."

"Then what happened?"

"Someone came up behind me and threw a plastic bag over my head and pulled it tight. I started to gasp, and then they pushed me into the side of a building. I couldn't scream, what with the wind being knocked out of me from the impact and, y'know, the bag on my head." She stopped for a moment and tried to pull her thoughts together. "They kept saying something about a…a…chancellor or a chandelier or a…channel! That's it, a channel! I had no idea what they were talking about." She looked up at Willow and a tear streamed down her cheek. "That's the last thing I remember. I guess they knocked me out, because next thing I know, I'm here and my wallet's gone."

"How'd they ID you?"

"I woke up and told them."

Willow nodded. "So, what's wrong with you? Medically, I mean."

Carly gave a short, bitter laugh. "What's not? I'm kinda glad I blacked out—I guess they worked me over pretty well while I was unconscious. Bastard."

"So how long are you in here for?"

"A few days at the least, a week or two at the most."

"What are you going to do about Taylor?"

Carly gave a weak smile. "I was sort of hoping she could stay with you."

"Oh, of course! Sure, she can stay with me. No problem."

Carly relaxed and laid back into her pillow a bit more. "Thanks. I knew there was a reason I became friends with you."

Willow smiled and patted Carly's hand. "Smart move on your part, huh?" She got out of the chair she had been sitting in and walked to the door. "I'm gonna go get Taylor."

* * *

Behold, readers of mine, and anti-climactic chapter ending!

I started this chapter awhile ago and finished and posted it today in honor of gidgetgirl's "Write a Sequel Week". Seeing as I have no sequels to write, I figured I'd make it, for me, "Update a Sequel Week". You like? Let me know, as always—REVIEW!

mistymidnight


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Title: **Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

**Summary: **Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

**Author's Notes: **Okay, here's the scoop: I want reviews. I know the smart thing to do to feed my review addiction would be to update "From Here" or "Haven't Changed A Bit", seeing as people seem to be more interested in those than in this story. However, I like this story, so I'm gonna update this instead and there isn't anything any of you can do about it! Mwa ha ha!

**The Plot Thickens**

"So, Taylor, you can stay in the guest room, okay?"

Taylor turned to look at Willow and nodded before turning forward to stare out the windshield again at the crawling traffic. Willow felt horrible for the little girl in the seat next to her. _I've got to do something to cheer her up, _she thought,

"Hey, Taylor, I've got an idea that will make this fun," she said. "We can rent some movies and get some ice cream and a pizza and have a slumber party. Would you like to do that?"

"Okay," Taylor responded dully. Willow could tell she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the plan.

"Well, what kind of ice cream do you want?" Willow asked. "We can stop by the store on the way home."

"I don't know," Taylor mumbled. "Whatever."

Willow sighed. "Taylor, honey, I know this is hard for you. But your mom is going to be fine. They're only keeping her in the hospital to keep an eye on her. She'll be out before you know it."

Taylor nodded and sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? About what?"

"About my mom."

Willow was surprised. "Taylor, it's not your fault. Something bad happened to your mom, but it's going to be okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

Taylor began to cry. "Yes, I did."

"Taylor, why do you think you did something wrong?"

"Because I did. I didn't warn her."

"Warn her about what?"

"About the hands," Taylor cried. "I—I saw them coming, and I saw them hurt someone, but I didn't know it was my mom. I'm sorry!"

Willow reached over and squeezed the little girl's hand reassuringly. "Taylor, it's not your fault. You didn't hurt your mom. The hands were a dream."

"They weren't!" Taylor cried, pulling her hand out of Willow's grip. "They—they show me stuff. They showed me what would happen to Mommy if I didn't do what they wanted. And now my mommy's in the hospital and it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault," Willow repeated. "It's…it's the hands' fault. What did they want you to do?"

"They want me to hurt people," Taylor said. "They try to make me, but I won't let them. And now they've hurt Mommy."

"Taylor, how do they make you hurt people?"

"They try to get inside my head. They want me to hurt people. They want me to…they want me to hurt you."

"Me? Why do they want to hurt me?"

"Because—because you…"

"Because I what?" Willow looked over at Taylor, concerned. Suddenly Taylor began to shake. Her eyes squeezed shut and her fists clenched. "Taylor!" Willow cried.

Suddenly Taylor's head snapped up, and she looked Willow in the face. Willow was startled by the lack of emotion in Taylor's eyes, which were usually so friendly.

"Keep away, bitch," Taylor growled. "Or what happened to the girl's mother will happen to you. And next time, I won't be so merciful."

"What are you?" Willow asked.

"I am what's going to kill you all," Taylor snarled, before lying limp and unconscious in her seat.

After quickly checking to make sure Taylor was physically all right, Willow concentrated on getting Taylor home.

* * *

"So what exactly did she say?" Buffy asked.

"She said, 'Keep away, bitch', and then threatened me with the same thing she—it—whatever—did to Carly. Except it said it won't be so merciful next time."

"Well, that's never good."

"But wait, I'm not finished. Then it said, 'I'm the thing that's going to kill you all'."

Buffy scoffed. "Like I've never heard that before."

"Okay, Buff, focus," Willow instructed. "Things keep speaking through Taylor. I can't help but wonder why."

"Maybe it's, like, some medical/mystical thing," Buffy suggested. "Like, she's got a weak mystical immune system or something, and she's just more easily possessed than other people."

"Or maybe," Willow said, "it's a power she hasn't learned how to harness yet, so some force of evil is trying to harness it for her, so to speak."

"Are you saying she's some sort of mystical channel or something?"

"Yes!"

"Awfully enthusiastic all of a sudden, Will."

"No, listen. Carly said that when she was attacked, the guy mentioned something about a channel, and then Taylor thought it was her fault. It's because she _is _the channel."

"Are we talking some kind of calling? Like Channel with a capital 'C'?"

Willow frowned. "Maybe. It sounds possible. In the meantime, I'd better be alert for anything, you know, apocalyptic."

"Maybe I can help with that," Buffy said. "It's been awhile since we've visited. What do you say I take a little trip to good old Toronto?"

"I don't know, Buffy. I don't wanna make you come all the way out here for nothing."

"Willow, have you been listening to this conversation at all? This definitely isn't 'nothing'."

"I guess…I just mean…"

"Willow, I'm gonna come, and that's my final answer."

Willow sighed. "Okay. But you know you can't stay with me. I mean, unless you want the couch. Taylor's in my guest room."

"Don't worry about me. I'm thinking of staying at one of those newfangled hotel thingamajiggers."

Willow smiled. "I'll talk to you later. I'm gonna go check on Taylor."

"Okay, Will. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Willow hung up the phone and walked to the guest bedroom, where she peeked in to find Taylor sleeping soundly, still clutching her stuffed cat.

* * *

mistymidnight 


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